by Pearl Love
Practice went smoothly with everyone getting through nearly all of “Saturn” without a misstep. “Mars” was a far trickier piece, and Mr. Crabtree took the time to drill them on several of the more difficult sections. Tyrell attempted to concentrate, having to play his part by ear since he was still learning how to read the rhythm marks written on the score. The majority of his attention, however, was consumed with what he should do once practice was over. Soon enough, Mr. Crabtree was calling a halt to rehearsal, and Tyrell knew the moment of truth was upon him.
This time, Jeremy paused to pack up his clarinet. He completed the task with his usual efficiency, but Tyrell was ahead of him. He was out of the room before Jeremy had finished and went to wait just outside the door Jeremy always used to leave the Academic and Arts building after practice. Sure enough, not two minutes later, Jeremy pushed through the door and stepped out into the cool fall afternoon. The trees had already begun to turn, the red and gold leaves gleaming in bright sunlight. The sky was free of clouds, and nature was showing off in fine fashion.
Tyrell hoped he didn’t puke all over the pavement. “Hey,” he called out when Jeremy walked straight past him without stopping. He wasn’t certain whether he was being deliberately ignored or whether Jeremy simply hadn’t seen him.
Jeremy didn’t jump, but his shoulders tensed, giving Tyrell his answer. He kept walking, but Tyrell refused to let him get away.
“Jeremy, come on, man. Wait up.” Tyrell sighed in frustration when Jeremy continued toward the sidewalk, his knuckles white where he gripped the straps of his backpack. “I swear, I’ll follow you all the way to the bus stop if I have to.”
Tyrell thought he’d gotten through when Jeremy suddenly paused, but when Jeremy didn’t turn to look back at him, instead staring straight ahead, Tyrell realized his mistake. The same group of football players who’d made such cruel sport of Jeremy at the party was hanging out in their usual spot. None of them were wearing their varsity jackets due to their suspension, but their inability to play had apparently only intensified their hostility. Tyrell could sense their glares, directed primarily at Jeremy, from where he stood over ten yards away.
Jeremy was obviously having second thoughts about walking past them, but he didn’t have much of a choice. He squared his shoulders and continued forward. Tyrell admired his bravery but hurried to catch up all the same.
“Well, lookie who it is.” Dunce moved to stand directly in Jeremy’s path. “It’s the little pussy boy. Where’d you go? Running home to suck on your mama’s tit?”
“You little bitch.” Another one of the players planted himself next to Dunce. “Coach benched us because you couldn’t keep your faggot mouth shut!”
Tyrell glanced over at Jeff, who was still standing off to the side with the last of their gang, seemingly content to watch the show. The dark bruise covering the bridge of his nose gave Tyrell a dark thrill of satisfaction.
Jeremy tried to step to the side and go around Dunce and the other guy, but they anticipated the maneuver and moved to block him.
“Where you going, faggot? We’re not done with you.” Dunce’s grin was mean. “Not until you make it up to us.”
“What do you want him to do, Dunce? I’ll bet the four of you can figure out how to circle jerk without any help.”
A buzz of uneasy interest had been going through the small crowd gathering around to watch, but when Tyrell spoke, everyone went deadly silent. The football players all turned to stare at him, but the only person he was concerned about was Jeremy, who still stood motionless on the sidewalk.
“What the fuck did you say, Hughes?”
Tyrell grinned nastily at Dunce. “I said, if you’re so worried about making it up to Coach Bryant, why don’t you try working on your shitty defensive line? That is, if you’re not too busy sucking each other off to practice.”
Jeff jumped forward at that and glared at Tyrell. “You fucking son of a bitch!”
Tyrell looked at him coolly. “You got something to say to me, Whitman? Go ahead. How’s that nose coming along? I’m sure I can give you a matching black eye to go with it.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Tyrell saw Jeremy turn around to stare at him, visibly surprised at learning who was responsible for the painful-looking injury Jeff sported. Tyrell forcibly kept his attention fixed on the immediate threat of several hundred pounds of enraged defensive tackles.
Jeff looked like he was considering arguing the point, but in the end, he folded. Tyrell remembered something his father had told him long ago: Bullies only have power over you if you let them. Tyrell figured he would have ended up pretty bloody if they’d decided to gang up on him, but their suspension would become permanent if they were caught fighting. Plus, Tyrell was confident he would have given as good as he got.
Dunce and the other player standing in front of Jeremy took their cue from Jeff and retreated with dark scowls etched on their faces. Tyrell stared at them until they’d backed off completely. When he looked back toward Jeremy, he was trapped by a shocked pair of brilliant green eyes. Tyrell felt a shroud of calm descend over him. He fished something out of his bag as he walked toward Jeremy, not stopping until he was directly in front of him.
Love is like the wild rose-briar,
Friendship like the holly-tree….
Tyrell didn’t bother to speculate which line of Emily Brontë’s poem rang most true. It didn’t really matter right then since neither would apply if he didn’t make good on his apology. He pulled the pendant out of his backpack and dropped the bag to the ground so he could hold the delicate chain in both hands. Jeremy stared at the pendant for a brief moment. Tyrell watched him closely until Jeremy looked back up at him.
“This belongs to you.” He slid the chain over Jeremy’s head. The stone fell neatly over Jeremy’s sternum, but Tyrell adjusted it until it lay perfectly.
“I-I, um,” Jeremy stammered.
“I’m sorry,” Tyrell said softly so only Jeremy could hear him. “I truly am.”
Jeremy’s face was red as a beet, and he glanced nervously from side to side, clearly hyperaware that they had an audience. But when he offered up a sweet, if tentative, smile, flashing those adorable dimples, Tyrell knew he’d made the right decision.
“Okay,” Jeremy said simply, and all was forgiven if not forgotten.
Tyrell felt the incredulous stares of Jeff and Dunce and the other idiots standing with them, but he easily ignored them. They mattered less to him than the dirt beneath his shoes. He picked up his book bag and nodded in the direction of the sidewalk.
“Walk with you to Halsted?” Tyrell asked.
Jeremy nodded without speaking. They ambled in silence for several blocks before Jeremy suddenly stopped and turned to stare at Tyrell. “Why did you do that?” He glanced back toward the school. “Everyone’s going to think you’re….”
“What? Gay?” Tyrell shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Besides, it’s far more important they know I’m nothing like those assholes.” He inhaled deeply and let his breath out slowly, considering how to begin. “Look, about what happened on Saturday, I really am sorry.”
“Why didn’t you say anything then?” Jeremy’s breath hitched.
Tyrell felt like scum. “Because I’m an idiot and a coward. I guess the thought of standing out scared the crap out of me, but I realized right after you left that was no excuse.” He met Jeremy’s gaze head-on. “You’re my friend, and I should have had your back. I’ll understand if you can’t forgive me for that.”
Jeremy shook his head. “No, I get it. Really, I do.” He chuckled wryly. “You know, Mr. Crabtree guessed that’s what happened.”
Tyrell blinked in surprise. “Mr. Crabtree?”
“Yeah, he got the story out of me when I went to see him after missing homeroom this morning. He said you were probably just reluctant to put yourself out there.”
Tyrell grimaced. “He was right. But like I said, that’s no excuse. It wasn’t worth losing your friendship
just to maintain my rep.”
Jeremy’s smile was a bit wobbly. “Thanks. I appreciate that. And I’m grateful for what you did back there.” He waved in the direction they’d just come from. “So, Jeff’s nose. That was you?”
Tyrell’s grin was vicious. “Yeah, served him right.” He flexed his fist. “Felt pretty good too. Maybe I should give up playing the drums and take up boxing.”
“No, don’t do that!” Beneath Jeremy’s amusement was a distinct note of panic. “You’re far too good to quit. Besides, if you said that to Mr. Crabtree, he might have a stroke.”
“Why do you say that?”
Jeremy winced. “I went to see him during study period to tell him I was quitting band.”
Tyrell felt light-headed. “What? You’re shitting me.” He stared when Jeremy shook his head. “Please tell me you weren’t going to quit because of me. Fuck,” he moaned when Jeremy glanced up at him sheepishly.
“Don’t worry, I won’t. I like playing too much to have really quit. Not to mention, we have work to do.”
“Right, but you know,” Tyrell added frantically, “that’s not the only reason I wanted to make up with you. Sure, solving whatever is going on with the strange deaths is important, but well….” He paused and scratched nervously at the back of his neck. “You’re fun to hang out with. I missed talking with you in homeroom and at lunch. Speaking of which, you’d better eat with us on Monday, or Cynthia will hang me in effigy on the running track.”
Jeremy laughed. “We wouldn’t want that. I’ll be there,” he replied softly.
“Cool.” Tyrell started walking again, pleased when Jeremy fell in step beside him.
“So, I never got around to mentioning it, but I’m thinking of starting a jazz band ensemble.” Jeremy glanced over at him tentatively. “Would you be interested in joining?”
Tyrell smiled. “Yeah. I’d love to. My grandma is practically an encyclopedia of jazz music, especially that old stuff. She’s always playing it in her room, and I really enjoy listening to it. Playing it would be pretty sweet.” He bit his lip for a moment as a rash thought popped into his head. “So, uh, do you want to come over to my place tomorrow afternoon? We can work on picking out songs,” he added hastily.
Jeremy nodded enthusiastically. “Sounds good!”
His bright grin made Tyrell’s heart jump, but Tyrell didn’t bother questioning the sensation. He was just glad things were good between them again at long last.
They spent the remainder of their walk in idle, but companionable chatter, discussing any mundane thing that came into their heads. Tyrell could tell Jeremy also wanted to say more, but figured neither of them wanted to push the bonds of their recently repaired friendship so soon. He waited with Jeremy until his bus arrived and watched it pull off before crossing the street to catch his own. He realized he was missing Jeremy already and decided he was perfectly content with that fact.
Chapter TWENTY-FIVE
JEREMY GLANCED at his phone to check the address Tyrell had given him, and then up at the numbers on the building. Confident he was in the right place, he walked up the steps to the main landing. Monica had been thrilled he was going to meet up with a school friend on the weekend and had offered to drop him off. Since he’d never spent much time farther south than downtown, except for that disastrous trip to Beverly, he’d accepted. However, in order to spare himself the embarrassment of his mother wanting to meet Tyrell’s family, he’d insisted she drop him off at the end of the block.
Two rows of buttons were set into a panel to one side of the front door. Some of the names written next to the buttons were faded, but the one he was looking for fortunately stood out. He pressed the button for “Hughes” and bounced on the balls of his feet as he waited for a response.
“Who is it?”
Jeremy smiled at the sound of Tyrell’s voice. “It’s Jeremy.”
“Come on up to the top floor.”
He pushed the door open as a buzzer sounded, indicating it was unlocked. The old carpet that covered the stairwell held the faint smell of mildew, and the recessed lighting barely illuminated the space. It didn’t look that much different from the steps up to his own apartment. When he reached the top landing, he saw two doors on opposite sides of the hallway, one of which was open. Tyrell stood there peering out into the hall. A smile lit up his face when he saw Jeremy.
“Hey,” Tyrell said. “You found the place okay?”
“Yeah. Chicago isn’t exactly difficult to navigate.”
Tyrell chuckled. “True enough. Anyway, come on in. My mom is out with some friends, and my brother is at Little League practice.”
“So we’re here by ourselves?” Jeremy asked, glancing around as he stepped inside the apartment.
The layout was simple, with the front door opening into the living room. He could see through a doorless opening on his right into the kitchen. A narrow hallway at a right angle to the kitchen led away from the living room. Jeremy followed Tyrell down the corridor.
“My grandmother is here.”
“Oh yeah. You said she knew a lot about swing jazz.” All of the doors off the hallway were closed. “Is she awake?” Jeremy asked, hazarding a guess as to why Tyrell’s grandmother hadn’t been in the living room.
Tyrell nodded. “Yeah. She doesn’t leave her room much these days, but she’s looking forward to meeting you.”
Jeremy’s eyes widened in surprise. “She is?”
“I kinda told her about you. I mean, about the jazz band,” Tyrell added hastily.
The hallway was too dark for Jeremy to be sure, but he had a feeling Tyrell was blushing. He smiled. “I’d love to meet her too.”
Tyrell paused before the last door on the left side of the hallway and knocked. “Big Momma? It’s me.”
“Come on in, baby.”
The voice was tremulous but assertive, and Jeremy wondered what type of woman Tyrell’s grandmother was. Tyrell hadn’t spoken about her very much, and Jeremy knew only that she’d been ill recently and was reportedly a big band connoisseur. He followed behind as Tyrell opened the door and went into his grandmother’s room.
The room’s decor fairly shouted that Tyrell’s grandmother was a woman of faith. The walls were covered with pictures of Jesus—mostly black, but a few depicting him in his unlikely Caucasian form. A large pair of praying hands sat atop a dresser scattered with knickknacks, and a huge crucifix hung over the bed. The woman sitting beneath it watched them with a content smile on her face and a merry twinkle in her eye.
“Big Momma, this is Jeremy.” Tyrell looked over at Jeremy and waved a hand toward his grandmother. “This is my grandma, Lucille Wallis.”
Jeremy straightened and clasped his hands in front of him respectfully. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”
Lucille’s peal of laughter surprised Jeremy with both its strength and sheer delight. “Oh, aren’t you sweet? But I shouldn’t have expected anything less from a friend of Tyrell’s.”
She held out both her hands toward Jeremy. He hesitated, uncertain what he should do, until Tyrell nudged him forward with a tap on the back.
“Go on,” Tyrell urged, clearly attempting to repress a grin.
Jeremy swallowed hard and complied, moving closer to the bed. Once he was within reach, he lifted his hands tentatively, but Lucille grabbed them and held them tightly.
“You call me Big Momma just like everyone else, you hear?”
Jeremy nodded vigorously. “Yes, ma’am. Er, I mean, Big Momma.” He found himself returning her grin. Her hands were smooth and nearly wrinkle-free, and Jeremy wondered how old she was, though he dared not ask.
“You certainly are a pretty young lady.”
Tyrell choked on a cough. “Uh, Big Momma, Jeremy is a boy.”
She blinked up at her grandson in confusion. “Jeremy did you say? Oh my, I thought you said Jenny.” She smiled up at Jeremy. “I’m sorry, baby. My hearing isn’t what it used to be. And you have such pretty hair, too
pretty for a boy.”
“Big Momma,” Tyrell began, his voice reedy with mortification.
Jeremy giggled helplessly. “That’s okay, Big Momma.” He was quickly warming to the charming endearment. “My oldest sister, Irina, would agree with you. She’s always on me to cut it.”
“But you like it that way, I take it?” Lucille asked with a chuckle. She squeezed his hands gently when he nodded. “Then you wear it however you like. Children should feel able to express themselves.” After a final squeeze, she let Jeremy go and nodded toward one of the chairs sitting off to the side of the room. “Pull up a seat so we can chat a spell.”
“I’m going to grab a pop,” Tyrell said. “Do you guys want anything?” His gaze took in both Jeremy and his grandmother.
“Some orange juice for me, baby.”
“Pop is fine,” Jeremy replied. He looked back at Lucille after Tyrell left the room. “Tyrell tells me there’s nothing you don’t know about big band music.”
“I wouldn’t say nothing, but I know a fair bit.” Lucille reached for the remote on the nightstand next to her bed. “My daddy loved it. He used to play the vibraphone professionally when I was a little girl.”
Jeremy fought not to bounce in his chair like a little kid. “Seriously? Oh, wow! That’s awesome! Did he ever do any recordings? Maybe I’ve heard him before.”
“He never made it big. Mostly he played in small clubs down in the Delta.”
“Delta?” Jeremy asked.
“In Mississippi.” Lucille looked down at the remote, her expression uncertain. “I can never remember how to work this fool thing.”
Jeremy held out his hand. “May I?” He smiled when she handed it to him. “Is this for the stereo?” He glanced over to the system resting on a table against the wall.
“Yes. Tyrell keeps CDs in there for me, though he’s always changing them without my knowing.” Lucille laughed. “It’s nice being surprised whenever I play one of them.”
Jeremy pushed Play, noticing that the light for the fourth disc in the exchanger lit up. The dulcet tones of “Take the ‘A’ Train” drifted out of the speakers, and Jeremy instantly began humming along.
